


Sunrise

by asterspire



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon - Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep, M/M, Pre-Slash, kid!Riku, kid!Sora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterspire/pseuds/asterspire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fleeting glance around rippling white fabric ends up being the first he sees of his neighbor- a boy about his age whose eyes put the unadulterated skyline to shame, gleaming like opals in the retreating afternoon sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> This was another request by my good friend Cloudie-Skye.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.
> 
> This contains a canon scene from Birth by Sleep; any dialogue in that scene is from the game.

It takes quite some time for Riku’s parents to forgo conservative city apartments for the humble suburbs of Destiny Islands’ shore. Their reticent son is the tender age of four when he’s introduced to their new house: two stories, with a roof fit for stargazing, a spacious backyard bordered only by flowering hedges, and the trademark aroma of the fragrant sea breeze. His parents are ecstatic.

Riku, having always been fond of adventure, takes a near-instantaneous liking to his new home. However, he's soon to discover a detail his parents had neglected to advertise; it's an anomaly which makes itself known in the form of a paper airplane sailing in from the adjacent house's window and stilling serenely on his bedroom floor.

Curious, the youth edges over to the source of the disturbance and rests a tentative hand on the windowsill, peeking his head around the frivolous curtains his mother had insisted on installing.

The fleeting glance around rippling white fabric ends up being the first he sees of his neighbor- a boy about his age whose eyes put the unadulterated skyline to shame, gleaming like opals in the retreating afternoon sun. Riku leans closer to see the boy give him a casual wave and grin.

"What's your name," he practically chirps, intently staring at his newfound companion. "Riku." Although a bit taken aback at the boy's sudden forwardness, he still manages to retain his composure.

Riku's response is rewarded with an ebullient grin. He inwardly realizes that he's more impressionable than he'd previously thought, if the upwards tugging of his lips is any indication.

The kid across from him plows forward in a tone every bit as saccharine as it is sincere.

"I'm Sora. I've lived here since forever, so imagine how happy I was when I found out a family was moving in. With a kid my age!" He looks so genuinely gleeful, Riku wonders if it's even possible for him to be downcast.

Feeling it's only polite after the boy mentioned his age, Riku poses an inquiry himself. "How old are you, Sora?"

At this the Sora grows evasive, idly stroking the petals of the yellow blooms growing in the box attached to his windowsill.

"Four..." he quietly admits. "And a half," Sora tacks on, as if it embellishes his case. He pouts and quips an offhanded comment about how "all the other guys" constantly tease him for it, before shaking his head and brightening once more.

"How old are you, Riku?"

"I turned five recently," he responds easily, having not anticipated how the other would react.

Flabbergasted, Sora groans for only a moment, burying his hands in short brunette hair. He quickly recovers and clasps his fingers behind his head with ease.

"Can't be helped, I guess. As long as you don't make fun of me..."

That foreign, empathetic smile edges its way onto Riku's face again. "Sure. It's a deal."

Sora looks as if he's about to respond, when his mouth freezes mid-motion, and he ducks back inside for a moment. When he returns, it's with an apologetic laugh.

"Sorry, but, my mom's calling me. Looks like I gotta go. Bye, Riku," he calls cheerily, the name rolling off his tongue like it's already a treasured thing.

"Bye," the latter returns, in a fashion a tad less energetic but well-meaning nonetheless, as he watches the retreating back.

Riku stares blankly at the open window for a few moments before returning to his room, noticing a tuft of yellow peeking out of Sora's paper airplane. He unfolds the contraption slowly, to see the messily scrawled offer: "Wanna be friends?" Tucked in one of the folds is a peculiar flower, the same type that had been on Sora's windowbox. Expression thoughtful in the near-twilight of his room, Riku plucks the flower from the white canvas and idly twirls the excess stem between his fingers.

(Some years later, Riku wanders through Radiant Garden soon after it's renamed that, noting with a small amount of awe that the flowers have managed to bloom again Bravest of all, to him at least, is the patch of unassuming yellow flowers in the fountain square. Riku reaches out and almost touches a delicate bulb- muttering a few words about a boy he once met, and how reassuring it would be to know that his waking, too, would be inevitable by the changing of the seasons.)

 

* * *

 

For all of the Destiny Islands mainland’s charm to outsiders for its perpetual state of idle peace and monotonous simplicity, the children’s favorite abode is, without a doubt, its sister counterpart. The other island is an advocate for adventure: whimsy wrapped in the pleasant natural aesthetic, and obscurity tucked in the folds of its circumspect secrets. Fond memories are preserved in generations of easygoing children who’d grown into hardworking adults, and provided the means for their children to do the same. No matter who is asked, for whatever reason, the mainland’s sister locale is a source of nostalgia to all.

It’s with these idle thoughts in mind that Riku gazes wistfully at the other island from the mainland’s central pier, knees tucked in and hands by his side.

Long before Sora nears, Riku can already hear his clumsy steps reverberating off the pier, as boisterous and spontaneous as the boy himself.

“Riku,” Sora calls when the gap has narrowed to a scarce few yards, in a tone more excessively jubilant than usual.

Riku turns around and manages an easy smile, already accustomed to the boy’s drastic energy spikes.

However, Sora’s positivity is infectious, and Riku’s grin broadens at seeing him brace his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

“Sora? I thought that you had errands to run with your dad in town.” Riku’s gaze tilts up to the man in question- who has been following Sora the whole time, only to have his subtler stride masked by his son’s contrasting one.

(Riku’s met Sora’s dad before: a gentle fisherman with a canorous voice reminiscent of swells in the sea, and an applaudable patience threshold for his son’s mischief.)

Sora takes a gulp of air, then two in a vain attempt to regain his bearings, before looking questioningly at the man twice his height. His father gives only a brief incline of his head, eyes turned downward at the corners in fondness, and Sora beams.

(It’s something Riku has always envied, this irrefutable, wordless communication between father and son: more so of the bond it indicates.)

“We finished everything really early, Riku,” Sora practically chirps. “Sooo, my dad said that if it’s okay with your folks, he would row us both out to the other island to play.”

A bit bewildered at the unprecedented news, Riku looks to Sora’s dad for affirmation, then turns back to his practically glowing best friend.

“So? What do you say,” Sora trills as he extends a hand to help Riku up. As he’s being pulled up, his center of gravity realigns, and when the world comes back into focus, he sees Sora smile with a brightness that rivals the noonday sun.

~~~

The surf laps at their ankles, tickling them almost teasingly as the boys depart the canoe and stand at the shore. Riku pauses to give an appreciative nod to Sora’s dad, Sora quickly following suit with a cheery wave.

Sora’s dad calls some brief reminders behind his back as he begins the trek back- cautionary words that Riku is sure are sitting in Sora’s head with the molecular integrity of sand in a sieve. However, Sora nods eagerly and seems attentive enough, so it’s with an easy conscience that his father leaves the children to their own devices. He’s out of sight a few minutes later, his existence an auburn speck on the horizon.

It’s then that Sora’s self-control snaps.

The proverbial "play" portion of their endeavor is kickstarted moments afterward; Sora kicks up vestiges of the sun kissed-sand as he lands clumsy cartwheels, laughing jovially with barely contained excitement before flopping on his back.

Riku peers over him, not bothering to hide a light chuckle at the goofy grin plastered on Sora's face.

"Come on, Sora," he chides, though his tone is light. "We've got the whole island to explore, and we can't do much with you napping here."

Sora gasps with mock-indignance and gives a reflexive comment about not napping before springing to his feet.

In the span of a few hours, the two thoroughly patrol and inspect most of the island. Lush greenery patches buzz with insect life, and the seamless integration of wooden beams into said nature is a testament to how carefully the island is kept as unadulterated as possible. There are too many nooks and crannies for Sora to keep track of at the moment: including but not limited to hollow caverns in the stone, where either boy could fit with ease should the need for a hiding spot arise.

The lone, gently tumbling waterfall drapes a clear curtain over the rock outface, and neither child hesitates to sample an invigorating sip. It's what hides behind the waterfall, however, that's the real find. Sora guides Riku through a dimly-lit cavern with overgrown tree roots and the scent of pressed flowers. He peruses the walls to see faint after-images of drawings on the stone surface, only to look down and find pieces of chalk scattered about the perimeter.

"Riku. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" It's difficult to see Sora's face in this lighting, but mischief is evident in his attempt for a husky, conspiratorial tone.

Riku nods despite knowing its practical futility, and bends over to pick up a piece of chalk. Sora balances another piece idly between his fingers, chewing the inside of his cheek as he attempts to choose a spot to doodle on.

Riku grows impatient of Sora's feckless indecisiveness and takes the initiative by picking a spot at random to write his name, content when he sees- or rather, senses- Sora follow suit beside him.

Sora and Riku sit back to admire their work, the former of the two giddy and a tad proud for having made their first "contribution" to their new play area.

"Y'know, Riku, it looks like this place was important to lots of people." Their eyes wander the cavern walls once more, silently taking in the faded scribbles, cryptic words, proof that someone had existed and cherished this spot. "So...if we're here now, I guess this means we...inherit it?" He speaks slowly to enunciate the last few words, ending the sentence in a question.

The answer is obvious to Riku’s proactive streak. "That means we have to take good care of it. To honor the times when those people were happy, too."

The two boys look at each other and form a mutual understanding just then- this is now hallowed ground, a haven within a haven, the abode where significant memories are sure to be made. Riku leaves with a fond glance at their names, etched on the stone like natural complement, and Sora has a sharp little smile on his face that doesn't dim for the rest of the evening.

~~~

Towards the end of their stay, Riku sees Sora abruptly start from his lounging position on the paopu tree- a rather unusual one, with a curved trunk which they could lean against if they angled their bodies just so- and walk to the shore.

"I'll be back, Riku," he reassures over his shoulder, sending back an optimistic smile.

Riku watches him carefully as he begins deliberately pacing along the shoreline.

Sora's eyes skim the ground attentively for a few moments, before stooping down to pick up a seashell. And then another. Followed by another.

"Sora," Riku calls, resting a hand against the tree's trunk to support his weight. "What exactly are you doing?"

Sora, balancing the three seashells in one palm so as to lay his chin in another, tilts his head up, thinking.

"Hmm...." Contemplating, he glances at Riku briefly as if considering whether or not to tell him before he stops and a wide grin stretches over his face.

"It's a secret." He chuckles a bit to himself, bangs falling into his eyes as he continues to gather seashells.

Riku merely shakes his head in bewilderment, used to the quirky nuances of his bubbly friend. He goes back to leaning against the tree, figuring that whatever eccentric plan Sora is up to, he wants to complete it on his own.

(If Sora's dad is at all puzzled at seeing his son carry an armful of the pastel tokens, he doesn't show it.)

~~~

Riku's patience is rewarded the next morning in the form of Sora tumbling from his bedroom window.

He's awoken from his sleep by a jarring noise that raises a state of immediate alarm, and he rushes hurriedly to the source of discord. What he least expects to see when he peers out of his window, however, is a very disheveled Sora, twigs and leaves poking out of his already unkempt hair. Upon further inspection there are three cardboard crates strewn about the boy.

"Um."

"R-riku!" To say Sora is embarrassed is an understatement. Cheeks flushed, he waves his hands excessively. "I wasn't trying to break into your room or anything! I, uh...look up there!" He points up wildly.

Riku refrains from chuckling at the terribly cliched sentiment before he pauses and hears the traces of a soft, airy melody floating into his ears. A bit puzzled, he glances up and to the right to see a hand-strung array of fragile seashells- gently clinking together to produce a sound as wistful as the shells are colorful.

Examining how they’re hung by a piece of twine on the awning above his window, Riku discerns exactly how Sora might've ended up in that predicament. In a flash of intuition, Riku glances over to Sora's window and sees another one anchored there, swirling to a completely different tempo than its counterpart.

"Sora. You made us windchimes?"

It's more statement than question, but Sora rubs the back of his head sheepishly nonetheless.

"Well, it was our first time off the mainland, and we had fun playing, so....this is something to remember it by?" He grins tentatively, having regained his confidence. "Do you like it?"

Taken aback by the sudden thoughtfulness, Riku’s reaction is a millisecond belated. When he does act, however, it’s to laugh- bracing a hand in the windowsill to jump down to the ground, and taking pleasure in Sora's small squawk of alarm.

"Of course. Thanks, Sora."

He extends a hand to help his friend up, an offer which is accepted gladly.

Sora smiles, the silence of their shared companionship punctuated by the distant chimes of shells.

(It's with a certain degree of wariness that Riku regards the two hooded Keyblade wielders that flock to the Destiny Island, first the clement-eyed girl then the pensive-looking boy. The first time she visits, he watches her movements carefully, thoughts stuttering in their tracks as she kneels down to clasp a single seashell. A wave of nostalgic melancholy washes over him, stabbing at carefully suppressed emotions as he realizes that some people will never truly change. The girl is gone before he can even think of something relevant to say.

He makes no move to interfere with her simple routine for the days that follow, and the same for the boy who later picks up her tradition. He wonders if their tokens will carry meaning- will bring a smile to another’s face during difficult times, or better yet, bear genteel witness to unrelenting soliloquies of wind... What belongs to the islands will always return to the islands, he supposes.)

 

* * *

 

By some slight chance Riku is awake fidgeting in bed to hear the foreign object impact his window, causing a dull reverberating thud and a protesting clinking noise from the glass. With a considerably lax attitude, he frees himself from tightly-tucked covers and strolls to the window, shivering at the touch of bare feet on the wood floor.

Riku tugs down the long sleeves of his sweater and pauses to smooth a few uncompromising strands of hair from his damp forehead. Having made himself somewhat presentable, he proceeds to unlatch the window and peers closely into the inky violet gloom.

The perpetrator (predictable, but it makes Riku smile in fond disbelief nonetheless) stands almost directly under his window, offering a friendly wave.

“Sora. What are you doing?” His voice is only a little hoarse.

Sora tilts his chin to look up at him, a sheen of periwinkle reflecting off midnight blue eyes.

“I,” he begins strongly, before suddenly all the air leaves him and he’s left staring at his feet- “...I heard you weren’t feeling good, Riku, and weren’t able to go outside all day. Your mom wouldn’t let me see you because she said I might get sick too. So…” A hopeful shadow crosses over Sora’s face, and he smiles sincerely at his friend. “I was hoping you would let me see how you were doing?”

“Sure. Though it’s nothing to be worried about for my sake.” Wisely, Riku pulls back from the window, tilting the glass panes open fully.

Sora secures his footing on a discreetly painted pipe running along the side of the house, springing off of it as his fingers scramble wildly for purchase on the windowsill ledge. Once they catch the narrow hold, he squirms valiantly and eventually manages to hoist himself up. Sora allows himself to plop unceremoniously on Riku’s bedroom floor, face pressed into the hardwood and disheveled hair obscuring his view. (He deemed it a milestone the first time he was able to climb up without Riku’s help. Now, he just has to learn how to land on his feet.)

By the time Sora straightens and glances up, Riku is already leaning subtly against his bed, the short period he spent standing having sapped his energy. A stern gaze fixes on him, worry evident in Sora’s brow.

“Riku, you don’t have to act tough. Lie down if it makes you feel better.”

Sora practically herds him onto the bed, unyielding until Riku reclines back onto the pillow slowly. He lets out an involuntary sigh of relief, almost hearing the echo of blood pulsating through his body.

Sora runs a cool hand across his forehead, expression twisting in concern at the severity of the fever. He steadily sloughs off the mattress so not to disturb Riku with the sudden dip in elevation, and kneels down to rummage through a satchel Riku hadn’t realized he’d brought.

Sora procures a modest wooden bowl and a pale washcloth, tucking them carefully in his arms before tiptoeing stealthily to the upstairs bathroom.

He returns with one hand precariously balancing the now-full bowl, and the other carefully feeling his way through the dark. Riku smiles wanly.

Sora places the supplies on Riku’s bedside table, pulling up a rustic chair with a faded blue cushion and intricately carved wooden backing. He gives Riku a pointed look, to which Riku begrudgingly obliges and pulls the blankets over himself, never breaking eye contact.

Suddenly confronted with the magnitude of these actions, Riku opens his mouth as if to protest- say that Sora really doesn't have to do this, he can take care of himself, or some other excuse he'll make up on the spot.

Sora doesn't want to hear any of it.

He shushes Riku before he can even begin, as the corners of metallic blue eyes soft at the sight of his ailing friend.

Sora dutifully dips the washcloth in the bowl, wringing it out slightly and folding it before placing it in Riku's head.

The sharp spike of chill is soothing for a few moments, offering clarity when everything else in Riku's head is a haze. He breathes slowly, savoring the rush of reprieve as the relentless fever temporarily dampens. By the time the water begins to turn lukewarm, Sora is already in the process of re-submerging the cloth.

When he speaks, it's in quiet tones, typical cheerful demeanor subdued.

"Y'know, Riku, I know how most of the time you like being independent and acting strong and stuff. But, when you're in trouble, you should let others help you too...because you always look out for them."

Sora offers a charming smile, folding his hands in his lap as he scrutinizes Riku more carefully.

"Can you promise me that, Riku? That you'll let others help you when you need it?"

A carefully concealed emotion threatens to bleed through Sora's concerned sentiment, and Riku swallows dryly.

"Sure, Sora. If you want me to.”

The tension dissolves from Sora's eyes, melting into relief. Riku remains quiet, observing carefully.

"So," Sora begins, flexing his fingers. "I think if I told you a story you would fall asleep faster."

And so, he does.

Sora proceeds to spin far-fetched tales of adventure and magic, about voyages to other worlds and encounters with mythical creatures. Part of it is ad-libbed, part of it not-so-discreetly pulled from their storybooks, and other parts take such gratuitous liberties with its plot that- had Riku been in his right mind, he certainly would've blinked and asked for clarification. The fact stands, however, that he's not in his usual mindset. As such, he struggles valiantly to stay awake, to grasp at snippets of Sora's passionate storytelling- all fervent whispers and exaggerated hand movements, pausing only for breath when he replaces the cool cloth on Riku's forehead. Riku squints in a vain attempt to memorize the swaths of color that pervade his modestly decorated room, the gentle look in Sora's eyes, the reassuring sound of his voice...

Riku's parents wake to find their son's best friend curled up in a chair, having fallen asleep by Riku's bedside.

(Riku remembers the quaint melody that Sora had hummed long after he’d thought Riku was asleep, ephemeral notes promising to bestow good dreams. He makes sure to repay the favor, more than ten years later.)

 

* * *

 

They peruse the island again today, deriving mostly insignificant details from nooks and crannies they’d neglected the first few times. Now, spending time in said destination is something of a habit- provided by virtue of an abundance of spare canoes, and the benevolence of a certain father with effervescent blue eyes.

In an amicable conversation on the way to the mainland, Sora’s father asks exactly how the two boys manage to spend so much time on the island. Curiosity spiking in the lilting highs and lows of his voice, the former waits patiently, turning his attention away from the bobbing waves.

Sora tilts his head and raises a hand to his chin pensively, mouth quirked slightly. “Well…” he begins a bit sportively, as if to draw out suspense, or sort together ideas in his mind, or both- “I guess I can tell you all that we did today.”

He then proceeds to prattle on for a good ten minutes a list of the various games one of them had made up (mostly him), whoever had won said game (mostly Riku), and the amount of discoveries one of them had made (equal, surprisingly- Sora with his natural clumsiness and penchant for lucky finds, and Riku with his careful perception). Sora constantly interjects his own report, backtracking and adding belated details and skipping to another subject as soon as it caught his interest, with Riku nodding for clarity and to show he’s listening. Riku isn’t convinced that Sora’s dad quite follows the exact train of thought presented, discombobulated and disconjuncted as it is.

Seeing as they’re nearing the mainland, however, Sora ends up concluding the speech with an abrupt contradiction. Allowing the second half of his current sentence to drift away, he pauses thoughtfully, and adds, “Though, Riku’s such an awesome friend that I’m sure we’d have fun no matter how we spend the time. Right, Riku?”   

In a daze, Riku allows himself a wry chuckle. It's a known fact that Sora’s tendency to express his happiness with zeal- particularly the contentment gained from their friendship- is neither an unprecedented nor rare occurrence.

That doesn’t stop Riku from feeling an odd weightless sensation every time the topic is mentioned.

For the next few moments Sora’s dad busies himself with docking the canoe safely (they don’t need another sea turtle incident), Riku turns over his thoughts in his head, and Sora stares, dreamlike, at the pinpricks of porch lights welcoming them back to civilization.

The conversation was seemingly at an end as abruptly as it had begun, and the two boys disembark cautiously, preparing to walk to their neighborhood together before breaking off with their customary goodbyes. Riku is already thinking about dinner, about the comfort of his bed in preparation for another day of rising with the sun and-

He hears a barely audible voice, a breath of air more than anything, and turns inquisitively to the source.

Sora’s dad whispers a quiet “thank you”, gratitude evident in the deep wells of shining eyes.

Riku only smiles in response.

~~~

Sora can navigate Riku’s house with the same comfortable ease as his own house, and vice versa. Too often has seemingly obscure areas been pioneered to serve as a recreation spot, invoking fond memories for the both of them.

(Sora has actually been on Riku's roof a total of three times: during an annual meteor shower, during a hard-earned campaign to stay up and see the sunrise, and during spring cleaning- when Sora had been unceremoniously dragged into participating as well.)

Riku pretends to give passing thought to Sora’s endeavors that are on the more enigmatic side of the spectrum, but really participates in it as zealously as his friend.

(The Bird Incident- to which Sora forever denies it to be one- involves Sora caring for the wounded stray, feeding it, and coaxing it to reciprocate his kindness long after the bird’s wing is healed. The look of shock on his face after the creature suddenly departs leads to an inevitable gloom that no amount of Riku’s reassuring words can amend.)

Sora, though not prone to what Riku would call “mood swings”, is instead characterized by sudden and dizzying bouts of extreme cheerfulness,

(This may justify the event that Sora half-pulls, half-drags Riku out of his house after nightfall to witness the annual sea festival; it's a surprise to himself when he finds the mesh of garish lights and stifling crowds to be somewhat exhilarating.)

* * *

 

If Riku’s parents mention not-so-offhandedly that his happiness feels more sincere now, laughter more wholehearted, demeanor more benevolent...he doesn’t bother to deny it. There’s a catalyst to it all, someone that had come barreling into his life with all the reckless abandon of a fickle gale, and he’d let himself get swept up almost too easily.

Riku knows it, so on this particular day on the island, he’s not adverse to being a bit more subdued than usual, to allowing his companion do most of the talking.

After heeding the call to an impromptu declaration to race, heels echoing hollowly against the boardwalk, the two settle down in their usual places- atop the tree with an impossibly curved trunk. It may have been his imagination, but Riku recalls seeing someone standing there during their competition...another person? He dismisses the thought, and continues to admire the bleeding hues of the sunset.

It’s not long before Sora spots the familiar speck of hazel on the horizon, and waves animatedly at the approaching canoe. With zeal, he challenges Riku to another race, and sprints back towards the shore without further ado. Riku, choosing to conserve the vestiges of his energy sets off at a much more leisurely pace. He reaches the final stretch of land before- he knew it, there had been someone there.

He pauses, takes a moment to carefully observe the tall stranger’s oddly elaborate clothes and the vacant way he stands as if he’s never seen the island sunset. Whispers of an idea start coalescing themselves in Riku’s head, and his pulse quickens as he considers the possibility.

Riku dismisses the silence by asking if this person had come from the outside world.

The stranger looks surprised for a brief moment, asking why he would think so. Riku calmly explains his reasoning, carefully gauging the man’s expression.

They continue to make small talk, and after one particular inquiry if it was frustrating to stay in one place, Riku realizes that the stranger is carefully scrutinizing his responses, almost as if searching for something. Deciding that he can play the same game, Riku asks how the stranger arrived at the islands. He deflects the question, of course, and Riku ends up admitting his drive to be stronger.

….“The strength for what?”

That one is easy. He can’t help his mind from flashing to a mental image of Sora, carefree and unburdened from any of the weights of the world-

“To protect the things that matter.” The phrase rolls off his tongue with ease, clear truth in the unwavering cadence of his voice.

The stranger offers little justification for his next action, except for a few cryptic words about the existence of other worlds.

He then proceeds to summon a weapon that appears in a whirring projection of light, and kneels on the ground. Riku is caught aback, inspecting the weapon’s earthen tones with a teal accent, and the atypical shape of the blade...almost reminiscent of-

“In your hand, take this key..." The stranger trails off on an elaborate speech, to which Riku nods to solemnly despite not really understanding the purpose.

Riku reaches out a hand, and, with a slowness due to reverence rather than hesitation, wraps his fingers carefully around the hold.

The single vigilant moment is shattered by Sora's boisterous call, slicing through the ephemeral environment him and the stranger had been wading in.

The stranger hurriedly dispels the weapon, and as Riku is beginning to casually wave back, he hurriedly lowers his voice to a conspiratorial tone.

He tells him to keep their conversation a secret, making up a hurried excuse to quell Riku's confusion. Not that he actually believes in magic, but...

The stranger ruffles his head fondly before releasing him to rendezvous with his friend.

Sora jogs towards him, cheeks flushed, demanding an explanation.

It's fortunate Riku has always found enjoyment in being aloof.

The whine in Sora’s voice as he continues his attempts at interrogation is evident, accentuated by his playfully stamping foot on the sand. He asks, with a bit of wonder in his voice, if the stranger is someone Riku knows.

Now I do, Riku refrains from saying. Instead, he lets slip a deliberately ambiguous phrase, and continues walking.

The rest of their conversation consists of a persistent Sora trying to pry information out of him, and Riku having perhaps a bit too much zeal in denying him.

He knows, for a reason he can’t explain at the moment, that the stranger might have realized more than he’d let on, and that is all the more reason for his secret to be kept.

(Some time later, after suffering the consequences of darkness, among other things, people sometimes ask him. Whether it be by Namine’s delicately-spun words or DiZ’s mocking rhetoric, they ask if it was worth it, if any of his actions were in vain. Almost reflexively, Riku denies it- and, with something resembling the traces of a wry chuckle, always answers with an affirmative. He has an oath to uphold, after all.)


End file.
